


Final Wish

by MrGr33d



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-02-16 15:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrGr33d/pseuds/MrGr33d
Summary: There was still a part of her that wanted to kill him, to prove she was better than him. That he was wrong to reject her. Yet it was tempered now. As Saber of Red fades away she can’t help but wish she could meet her Father again and show him how far she had come.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**I do not own the Fate franchise. It is the property of Type moon, and as such not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes**   **only.**

* * *

It looks like her part in the Holy Grail war was at an end. That assassin was defiantly no push over though given she cheated and was more a kin to caster soothed her ego a little. Still she thought that Sieg would prevail in the end and there wasn’t a chance he`d you use the wish for something heinous so she and her master had fulfilled their objective if nothing else.  She’d come a long way since her summoning and it was all thanks to the man dying before her.

There was nothing to be down. His fate sealed as surely as her own.  Yet as he shares a final cigarette with her, his contentment is plain though their connection. No regrets.  For a brief time she had known what it felt like to have a father despite how unconventional the whole situation was. It was through that relationship that she had come to understand her biological father better. There was still a part of her that wanted to kill him, to prove she was better than him. That he was wrong to reject her. Yet it was tempered now. As Saber of Red fades away she can’t help but wish she could meet her Father again and show him how far she had come.

* * *

 

Mordred was many things but polite was not of them. This was especially true when it came to dealing with the Fae folk who she viewed with a deep rooted contempt for their connection to magic and her father. It is no surprise therefore that upon opening her eyes for the first time since fading away on assassins floating garden that she snarls demandingly at one such creature, “Who the hell are you!?”

The small blue nymph that had been smiling serenely down at Mordred recoils, its large black eyes widening in shock as it flutters backwards on translucent wings. It quickly recovers its composure however and precedes to scowl in return as it humphs indignantly and points at Mordred with an accusatory finger.

 “What kind of greeting is that Human?” The creature begins irritable as it fixes its ruffled long black hair back into place behind its dagger like ears, “It’s no wonder so many of your kind never make it here. Why it’s like I always say to Lilith you savages are not fit see one of us let alone set foot in this place.” The fairy stops its tirade for a moment; looking the sitting Mordred up and down as its scowl only deepens into open disgust.

“Keep looking at me like fairy and ill cut you in half.” Mordred bites out, springing to her feet and gesturing as if to summon her trusty sword as she had down so many times during the grail war. “Mordred Pendragon, the future king of Britain stands before you and I will not be looked down by anyone let alone a cur like you.”   

Under normal circumstances such a proclamation would make even the most veteran of soldiers pause given the renowned prowess attached to that name.  However instead of the radiant blade Clarent appearing to enforce her statement nothing materialised.  An ill omen that would have caused Mordred great distress if she had the time to process the failed summoning.

As it was the flying imp burst into hysterics in that moment of failure which had the side of effect of overloading Mordred`s confused mind with pure rage instead.

 “Oh there’s no weapons allowed here monkey.” The Fae titters with mocking joy as it floats closer, its elegant long white gown just centimetres from brushing up against the lush green glass below.  “How a simpleton like you managed to get here ill ne-Ugh....” The Fairy stops mid sentence with a pain filled gurgle as Mordred`s hand shoots forward around its neck and begins to squeeze.

“Who says I need a weapon Fae? Now unless you want me to strangle the life out of you I suggest you tell me who you are and where I am right now.” To add to the threat Mordred squeezes that little bit tighter though not enough to kill. Despite her initial anger at the Fae Mordred`s blood lust had quickly faded as the significance of the Faes presence finally registered within her mind.

 _“I guess I should be glad I was summoned as a Saber rather than Berseker or this could have gone decidedly different.”_     She admits begrudgingly, finding the image of that scenario rather appealing despite herself. _“If a Fae is here then it can’t be the mortal plane and I can remember the grail war I just fought in so I can’t be in the throne of hero’s. Where the hell am I?”_

“I believe I can answer your questions Mordred Pendragon.” Another voice cuts in from behind them before Mordred`s captive can answer, the owner tone serene but with an undercurrent of power than she knew should not be trifled with. “That is of course providing you release my misbehaving subordinate who seems to have allowed her dislike of humans to colour her duties again. For that I can only apologise and hope you won’t take further offence and ruin your chance at of obtaining peace.”  

Looking back over her shoulder, her hands still firmly on the Fae`s throat, Mordred takes stock of the new arrival as they emerge from the dense forest surrounding them. She was similar in frame to the first Fae though from the stories her so called mother had told the knight as child that build was the norm for those of their kind.

 _“I wonder if that sword of fathers also passed on the ability to maintain a slim figure no matter how much you consume.”_ Mordred muses with a degree of melancholy, recalling how her father had managed to consistently eat an armies worth of food and not show a sign of a widening stomach.  Something Mordred had taken  great delight in mimicking once she joined the round table given her similar disposition towards food _.“Kinda sad to say but it was one of the few things were where able to bond over....even if father only saw me as a fellow knight.”_

Pushing those conflicted thoughts of her father aside, Mordred acknowledges that this Fae was indeed markedly different from her captive.  Indeed beside her braided long blonde hair and additional set of wings this creature’s aura was as powerful as her voice suggested. 

 _“I hate backing down but tangling with that thing is probably not a good idea right now. Best to do what it says so I can find out what’s going on”._ Mordred decides reasonable before adding with a smirk to herself, _“And hey I can always cut its head off later if needs be.”_

With her course of action decided Mordred reluctantly lets go. “Fair enough.” Mordred agrees with a shrug before grinning wolfishly at her former prey, “Scram Fae before I change my mind. Oh and if I ever catch that kind of attitude from you again you better bet you wont be so lucky. 

The newly released Fae rubs her neck with a scowl, looking as if they were going to argue before they catch the look of reproach from her apparent senior.  The Fae`s head quickly looks down with a mix of shame before quickly leaving the scene. Yet Mordred couldn’t help but notice a look of fear materialising on the Fae`s face as it passes its counterpart.  A barely audible “We will speak about this later.” uttered by the blonde haired Fae as its fellow passes by.

Feeling somewhat vindicated now knowing her antagonizer would likely be punished in some form, and by the look of fear it would not be pleasant, Mordred greets, “I’m glad to see someone has manners up here. Honestly looking down on someone you just met is a bad way to end up dead.” 

Moving to meet the Fae, Mordred maintains an open demeanour having decided the less confrontational approach would maybe serve her better on this occasion. That being said the creature was still a Fae meaning Mordred`s guard was still up all the same. “So you apparently know my name but I’m at a disadvantage here. What’s your name and more importantly why am I here?”

Maintaining a serene smile, one that would probably annoy Mordred given time if she was honest, the Fae responds, “Apologies I am Lilith, the custodian of these lands and all its inhabitants. As such I can again only apologise for not instructing Aoife more thoroughly. As a greeter she should be above such petty prejudice but alas her passed experience with humans has apparently left a greater mark on her than I feared.”

Lilith bows slightly, her voice tinged with regret, “Please do not allow that to impact on your experience going forward. ” The Faes head rises, her impressive aura rising a hundred fold as her voice takes on an edge of warning, “However you must know that violence is stickle prohibited outside of the sparring arena. As a newcomer there is some leeway but please refrain from further displays of aggression. The results would not be pleasant.”

Sensing the overwhelming power a part of Mordred almost leaps at the chance to prove herself against such a seemingly powerful being.  But as before Mordred is happy that she was not summoned as a Berseker . 

 _“Maybe if I had Clarent I could take her but even then it might be pushing it.”_ Mordred ponders, envisaging all the possible moves she might make to take down such a creature. _“Still there’s nothing to be gained from antagonising her and I need to know what’s going on before i can decide what to do. I’ll give it to father this diplomacy crap is harder than I thought.”_

Swallowing her pride at the implied threat Mordred responds as calmly as possible, doing her best to suppress the discontent she feels “Ok your house your rules and as for the other stuff its water under the bridge. Consider it apology accepted ok.” Seeing the small nod of approval from Lilith Mordred continues with barely concealed impatience, “Now with that out of the way can you tell me what is going on.”

Either not noticing or ignoring Mordred`s mood, Lilith smiles amicable. “Of course.  To answer your question your soul has passed on to the Land of the Eternal Spring thanks in part to your actions in the Holy Grail War.”

It takes a moment for Mordred to put the pieces together and realise what the Fae had said,  “Avalon? “ She breaths out in shock, taking a step back from the Fae in sheer disbelief, “H-how can that be. I-I can’t possibly be there. It’s said only those of Britain that the Fae deem worthy may reside.” Casting her gaze away from the Fae, Mordred adds bitterly, “I sullied every good deed I ever did by letting Britain fall to the Saxons .... All because I couldn’t stand father rejecting me.....just as mother said he would.”

“We prefer our name for this place as opposed to the human term but yes.” Lilith confirms with the same unwavering tone of serenity despite Mordred`s now openly dark mood, “However it was judged that you are no longer the same person as the one who rebelled against your sire. Given your actions during the war you have more than made up for your past shortcomings.”

Seeing Mordred incredulous look the Fae sighs and adds, “Most of what humans know of this place is poorly retold myth at best. Though rare it is possible for those with a less pristine past to be re-judged in light of new deeds as you were. Indeed though exceedingly rare even those not born of Britain but pure of spirit may find themselves here.  So long as they are willing to defend Britain when the time comes for our islands to face its greatest threat we are willing to accommodate.”

Mordred mulls the Faes explanation over in her head.  The knights natural distrust of the Fae and admittedly people in general warring against her desire to be accepted. To be told she was worthy after all.

 _“And given everything I’ve seen there really isn’t any other explanation.”_ Mordred acknowledges with a welling sense of pride before reality sets in and her mood darkens again, _“I guess fate as a twisted sense of humour if it wants Britain’s destroyer to save it one day. Still that doesn’t mean I’m happy being volunteered to be the Fae`s attack dog.”_

Staring defiantly at Lilith, Mordred voices her petulant annoyance, “Say I accept your explanation. Who says id want to be your little pet to unleash on your enemies whenever you please? You should know how it ended for the last person I had to serve unwillingly.”

“Oh it is of course your choice whether you accept our offer.” Lilith replies completely unperturbed a small impish smile forming as she tilts her head in question, “But are you saying you wouldn’t wish to defend Britain when it needs it most?”

 _“Damn know it all Fae.”_ Mordred curses knowing the creature had backed her into a corner. “ _I may have broken my vow to father but despite everything I can never go back on my word to protect Britain and she already knows that. Besides it may be the only way I can ever truly wash away my shame for letting it fall in the first place._ ” 

Seeing no way to save face Mordred `Humphs` irritably, “Fine that was a stupid question I guess. Of course I want to defend Britain. Even if that means having to work with the Fae.” Mordred pauses as she loses steam and calms down, another piece of detail of the Faes words rolling in her mind.

“That aside....” Mordred begins hesitantly, not used to being unsure of something, “What about Kairi, my master? You said those not of Britain could make it here and he was just as instrumental if not more so in the wars conclusion. Hell if not for him there’s no way I could have started coming to grips with what happened between me and father. I-I owe him more than can made up for in one life time.”

The Faes smile falters for the first time, a look of sadness passing through her features before her usual demeanour is restored. “I am sorry Mordred.” She soothes gently, “Though your masters deeds were great in this instance he would not be considered eligible for a place here or in the throne of heroes. As I said it is rare for any human to reside here let alone a mostly normal one.”

She frowns slightly while suppressing a grimace as if she had tasted something foul, something that boosted Mordred`s spirits despite the answer she was receiving.“There is also the matter of his necromancy that has tainted his spirit so. He would not be capable of residing here even if we wished it.”

Lilith pauses, looking into the distance as if searching for something before continuing with seemingly genuine sympathy, “There may yet be another version of this human from another universe that would qualify but none have emerged as yet. It also must be said that even if such an individual did occur they would be unlikely to be the same person you knew or be sent to this universe. Im sorry Mordred but it is unlikely the master you knew would ever be able to join you here.”

“No I already guessed that would be the answer but hoped I was wrong anyway” Mordred accepts with a forlorn sigh, suppressing her resentment of the fact before chuckling fondly, “And yeah I’ve got to say the whole necromancy stuff wasn’t my favourite thing about him either.  Though it worked for him and saved our butts on a few occasion so I can’t really hold against him.... even if it means I can’t see the idiot again.”

“I can keep a watch on the meta verse for him if you wish. ”Lilith responds with restored professional composure, “It will after all be some time before Britain faces its trial. Stranger occurrences though rare have happened. Your own situation being a prime example.”

 _“The last thing I want is to be indebted to her anymore than I already am.”_   Mordred ruminates as the knights desire to help her master struggles against long held prejudice, _“But even if it’s a slim chance I owe it to Kairi to accept. Being petty at this point won’t help anyone.”_

With that in mind Mordred infuses her reply with as much gratitude as she can muster. Something which incidentally would still be barely noticeable to most but not the empathetic Fae, “Ehh if you could that be great. Even knowing he found happiness somewhere would be nice ....So thanks I guess.”

“Thats no problem.” Lilith responds with a knowing smile, one Mordred has to try really hard not to punch in response, “We have prepared a dwelling for you in the meantime. You can also meet your fellow denizens in the communal areas and use the sparring arena for practise as well as stress relief if you wish.” Fixing Mordred with an intense though seemingly still friendly stare, she concludes, “Hopefully that should prevent any more unauthorised acts of violence yes.”

Rubbing the back of her head in slight embarrassment, though still believing the uppity Fae got what was coming to them, Mordred agrees unruffled, “Yeah yeah you wont be getting anymore problems from me ok. Though id advise keeping what’s her face away from me. For both our sakes.”

Seemingly accepting her answer in good spirits, at least as far as Mordred could tell, Lilith turns to leave offering a simple, “That can be arranged.”

“Hey wait a minute!” Mordred calls out in frustration while looking around the grassy clearing in utter confusion, “How do I get to my new place or any of that other stuff you mentioned?”

Turning back, Lilith lets out a small chuckle and smile that she tries to hide with her hand, “Oh my how silly of me I almost forgot. Simply think on the place you want to be and a portal will appear leading to it.”

“It’s that easy? “ Mordred asked with a raised eyebrow just as a wispy portal of cloud appears in answer, its depths a swirling pool of colour.

“Indeed.” The Fae confirms with a smile before her mask slips momentarily, a slight frown of apprehension forming. “There is one other matter. You recall how I said your situation was an example of an unusual entry into our lands?”

Scratching her chin in thought Mordred replies with an uncertain scowl, “Yeah I remember.  I thought you meant because of my how chequered my past is?”

“That is part of the answer but not the main points.” Lilith answers with care as if trying to figure out the best way to present the information, “For reasons unknown to ourselves it seems the grail of your war heard your final wish and granted it in some measure despite you not being the final servant.”

“My final wish?” Mordred questions in confusion, struggling to remember her final moments as clearly as she would like _. “Well I was dying and probable a little delirious from all the damage so I guess I can’t really hold myself accountable.  Still why the hell would I want to end up here?_

 “It appears so.” Lilth answers seemingly as confused as her, “The magic that transported you here was unmistakable but its intent a mystery. All we knew was that you had been sent here from another universe.  While you remained unconscious we inspected the events of your grail war through the throne.  Seeing all that had occurred it was determined you were indeed worthy to remain in our lands despite the unorthodox way you arrived.”

Pausing Lilith seems to brace herself. At the same time Mordred had only been listening with half an ear, trying with growing frustration to figure out what her last wish could have been.  However her attention is regained fully once more as she registered uncharacteristic uncertainty in Liliths voice.

 “It was not of course guaranteed that we would allow you to stay here given your past and noted mistrust of our kind.” Lilith explains, studying Mordred`s reaction with interest. 

Mordred having no comeback given what happened simply shrug’s. Apparently pleased with her reaction, Lilith continues though with still a hint of doubt in what she was communicating. “In any case what secured your place was one of our denizens strong canvassing on your behalf.”

“Well I’m not sure if I should thank them or punch them honestly.” Mordred wonders out loud, her emotions still somewhat conflicted over the issue but her voice whimsical. However more pressing for the knight was her suspicion that whatever was making the Fae so uncertain was the identity of Mordred`s benefactor.  “Ahh doesn’t matter I’ll decide when I meet them. So who are they?”

 

Grimacing slightly, the Fae responds, “They actually wished to greet you but given your past I suggested they wait for you to approach them.  If you still wished to do so of course.”

It was at the moment Mordred experienced a sinking feeling deep in her chest. There were many people she had called enemies in her life. Some undeserved and others very much so. But when thinking on the person who had caused the most grief only one name came to mind.

“Y-You don’t mean...?” Mordred chokes out just as the memory of her final wish comes to the forefront of the knights mind.

Seemingly relieved to finally say it Lilith responds, “Yes. The person who spoke on your behalf is your sire, Arturia Pendragon.”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Bored.....” Mordred moans for the twelve time that day as she plays absently with her spiky blonde hair.  “Bored, bored, bored.” She repeats, staring blankly up at the wooden walls of her new home provided for by the Fae.

 It was a modest cottage in Mordred`s humble opinion, the wooden building reminiscent of what many local magistrates called home in her time. Though it had to be said it was built to a standard unachievable in the dark ages. Indeed it was stocked with all the modern appliances Mordred had knowledge of through the throne of heroes and would see her live a comfortable life if she so wished.  

“I bet those damn Fae ripped it right out of my mind.” Mordred muses irritable, finding the very idea that the Fae had touched her psyche with their foul magic distasteful. “How else could they have seemingly recreated the home I grew up in with mother...... The place where many of my most treasured memoires lie.”

The last part is said in but a bitter whisper , the memories having been tainted with the knowledge of what her mother truly thought of her.  With a `Humph`  Mordred stares up  at the ceiling and growls from her arm chair, “Damn Fae sticking their noses into where they don’t belong. I have half a mind to cut that smug Liliths head off the next time I see her.” Mordred pauses, an embarrassed blush gracing her cheeks as she grumbles, “At least when I get my sword back.” 

Much to Mordred shame she had lost the right to using the sparring arena for a month. A major inconvenience as it was the only place she could seemingly manifest Clarent.  

More important for the knight however was that she could no longer indulge in her new favourite pass time of beating up the overconfident denizens of Avalon. The fact that most of these where Fae was just icing on the cake for Mordred.  Indeed, it was a boon she was sorely missing now as boredom set in and her useful distraction was taken away.

“I probably should have stopped beating that guys face in when Lilith warned me.” Mordred admits begrudgingly as she leans forward into her seat, rubbing her face in frustration as she recalls the event, “But the bastard was looking down on me and hell it was just so much fun seeing his arrogant smirk crumble away like that. What was I supposed to do?”

Knowing full well what she was supposed to do, Mordred lets out an irritated groan, “Ahhhh im such an idiot. Why do always manage to screw everything up. Now....Now I have nothing to do but think about father.”

It had been two weeks since Mordred had arrived in Avalon and in a rare moment for her she found herself utterly torn on what to do. _“If I was the same person who died at Camlann id probable try to finish what I started. And I still do if for nothing else than to prove that I can beat you but knowing what I know now everything is different.  ”_ Mordred thinks with bitter regret as she always did these days, the truth of her mother’s actions changing much in Mordred`s mind, _“You played both me and father like fiddles mother. To think I was nothing but a disposable pawn to you_ , one who you didn’t even have faith in to carry out your twisted schemes.”

The knowledge of her mother’s actions gifted to Mordred by the throne like a poisoned chalice combined with her time during the grail war had made the knight revaluate things.

For Mordred her mother’s actions where indefensible but what tore at the knights heart most was that she didn’t believe she could best Arturia. Indeed so sure was she of Mordred failure that Morgan cast a spell to compel the knights body to strike out upon death when Arturia was close. A spell to ensure Morgans victory as surely Mordred would fail. A spell that ultimately killed Arturia rather than Mordred`s skill.

No betrayal could ever be as grave as the one her mother committed on Mordred.  Except perhaps Mordreds own actions against her sire.

“Foul magic.”  Mordred curses quietly as she stares into the flames of the fire place across from her, the knowledge still difficult to accept despite how long she stewed on it. _“Though it wasn’t_ magic that made _me rebel. That was on me I guess. An expendable pawn marching to mothers tune just as she planned.”_

Springing to her feet in frustration, she begins pacing the room like a lion on the prowl arguing, _“_ But hell father had a hand to play in that as well. He never understood the people like I did with his aloof perfection shielding him from any emotional connection. Why else would Lancelot and Guinevere betray him so? Why else would so many flock to my banner if not for his inability to connect with his people?” She stops, gritting her teeth as she reminds herself begrudgingly of what she had long known. 

“Father wasn’t perfect.” She admits with a sigh as she slumps back into her chair, “He tried to be because that’s what father thought a king should be. But no human is perfect. No one let alone me had a right to hold him to the ridiculous standard he set himself. A standard father had no hope of maintaining no matter how hard he struggled.”

Mordred has seen many of these struggles from a prime position, the incident with Lancelot’s affair only the tip of the iceberg. Saxon invaders, scheming nobles and ungrateful masses. Mordred had seen it all and yet despite knowing how this strain would affect most she pointedly ignored the possibility that her sire could also be similarly affected. Indeed Mordred greatest sin was holding her father up to the same standard as everyone else, stabbing him in the back when he inevitable failed. 

“I should have kept my oath despite his rejection.” Mordred muses as her voice becomes infused with growing self loathing, knowing that she had doomed the kingdom she sought to rule with her betrayal, “Hell can I even really blame him for doing so given my origin. I’d have probably find it hard to keep the disgust from my face if put in a similar situation.”

No matter how much Mordred liked to dress it up the simple truth was that she feared being rejected again. Feared seeing that brief flash of horror that passed through her sires eyes when she revealed the truth. Feared him turning away from her like he did that day and deny her very existence. An existence she had fought so hard to prove worthwhile.

“But Lilith said father wished to see me and they even vouched for me.” Mordred tries to counter, that unfamiliar uncertainty still warring with this unexpected but pleasant knowledge. “Maybe he finally wants to settle things between us. It`ll be worth it even if all that happens is a duel.” Mordred grins broadly, the image of her father conceding defeat to her too euphoric to contain. The knight failing to realise the duel hadn’t ended in her sires death as her fantasies used to.

Mordred smile lessens, a thoughtful look rising in place. Despite herself she conjures another scenario that she would never admit to desiring, a reluctant hope infusing her words, “Maybe he will actually acknowledge me as a person. Treat... treat me as his child and say I would have been a worthy successor.”   

_“What if he only wants to reject you again?”_

With a frustrated growl  Mordred  slams her fist against the adjacent wall , leaving a large imprint that slowly fades as the Faes magic fixes the problem. An event that was quiet common within Mordred`s domain.   

“Why can’t I get over this!” Mordred roars, her doubts an unseemly weakness for the normally self assured knight. Taking a calming breath after a minute of irate teeth grinding as she tried to overcome this affliction without success, Mordred admits longingly, “I wish you were here master.”

Her former master in the short time they had been together was always approachable no matter the reason. Indeed she had pestered him about many things from the mundane requests for food or cloths to the deeper issues regarding her sire.  

 _“And damn do I need someone to talk to right now”_ She admits, cursing anew the Fae despite how reasonable their excuse as to why her master couldn’t be here. “ _You always heard me out, always acknowledged my worth. First as a servant and eventually a person. Hell it almost felt like how a father.....how father should be.”_

Mordred knew that his indulgence was partly down to his own loss of a daughter. A role she had slowly and unintentionally started to fill for the mercenary during the course of the war. Still Mordred appreciated it nonetheless and by the end she would like to think they were on the same page when it came to their strange relationship.  Never said aloud but very much that of surrogate parent and child.

 _“I wonder what you would say if you could see me now.”_ Imagining that very scenario it doesn’t take Mordred long to realise how foolish she had been. _“There is nothing in this world that would have stopped him seeing his daughter again despite all that happened_.” She begins to reason, seeing the look of disapproval mar his battle worn face, “ _Here I am feeling sorry for myself when the person I craved to see like no other was but a portal away. It doesn’t matter what my father’s reason was I deserved to be_ acknowledg _ed if nothing else. I can’t afford to waste this chance. I owe it to master to confront father again. No matter the consequences.”_

“You would tell me to stop wasting time and demand the answers you want.” Mordred proclaims as she stands up with renewed vigour. “You would remind me that no true king of Britain would hide away like a craven fool. No, a true king tackles their problems no matter the hardship they may face.”

With new found resolve Mordred heads for the door, determined to get the acknowledgment she so sorely craved from her father.

“Ready or not it’s time to settle this father.” She affirms while materialising her white and red etched armour, prepared for a fight should it come to that. “One way or the other.”

* * *

 

“Well I wasn’t expecting this.” Mordred ponders aloud as she scratches her head. Eyeing the structure, a scowls appears as the knight recalls this foreign style of building courtesy of the throne of heroes. “Why the hell would father be living in an old Japanese house? There’s no way this is the right place.”

Before Mordred was a white wall with a blue tiles roof, the entrance gateway revealing a large wooden complex of traditional Japanese design. A far cry from the thatched cottages or stone castles of Britain that she expected to find. 

 “ _Unless the Fae I nearly beat to death in the arena is somehow involved with how the portals work.”_   Mordred muses irritable, annoyed that she may have worked herself up for nothing because of a sore loser. However a feral smile soon forms as she imagines the consequences for the foolish Fae if that was the case, “Though if that’s true at the very least Lilith might let me finish the job.”

Dismissing the thought as wishful thinking, the portals having been nothing but accurate since her arrival in Avalon, Mordred presses on.  She passes through the gateway, the distinct clunk of a bamboo Sōzu fountain emptying reaching her ears. A sound that drives home how utterly bizarre her fathers choice in residence was. Something that only becomes compounded by the heavenly smell of food emanating from what she assumed was the kitchen window.

Unbidden the image of her father in casual ware with an apron on top and whisk in hand enters the knights mind.  A snort of amusement escapes Mordred lips at the image, especially as her father’s culinary skills had proven essentially as lethal as her blade.

 _“Then again maybe father learned to cook in order to alleviate the boredom.”_ Mordred wonders, her curiosity growing _, “Giving enough time anyone should be able to make a decent cook I guess._ _Though the why is probable more interesting than the how.”_

Putting that mystery aside,  Mordred reaches the front panel of what appeared to be the main entrance and knocks on the frame firmly. The last thing the knight wanted to do was risk losing her nerve because her father couldn’t hear her summons.

 _“It’s now or never Mordred.”_ She silently affirms, her heart thumping in equal parts anticipation and fear, “ _No matter what happens I’m getting my answers from father. To achieve anything less is a failure I cannot accept. ”_

Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps beyond the entranceway, Mordred builds herself up to get the first word in. A childish though necessary action for what Mordred considered gaining the initiate in the battle of words and perhaps more to come.

Yet when the occupant finally slides the door open all Mordred can muster is a bewildered “Huh.”

Instead of the regal frame of her father the knight expected  she is greeted at the door by a man. A man of seemingly Japanese decent sporting a blue and white baseball t-shirt along with jeans .  A man who would appear utterly unassuming if not for his oddly spiky auburn hair. A man who was most certainly not her sire.

Equal part angry and embarrassed that she may very well have ended up in wrong place after all, Mordred chooses the former emotion.

“Who the hell are you!?” She demands irately, the man lucky she was incapable of summoning  her blade right now. However to Mordreds vexation rather than appearing scared or even taken aback the man simply smiled warmly. “You must be Mordred- San.” Bowing deeply he continues, “Im Shirou Emiya, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Still utterly confused Mordred can’t help but let out another “Huh.”

Seeming mildly abashed for a moment, Shirou quickly regains his weird brand of friendly helpfulness. “Ahh sorry I’m obviously not the person you were expecting. Sabe-I mean Arturia is in the dining room right now so if you follow me ill take you to her.”

Turning to leave without waiting for a response  Mordred has no choice but to follow dumbly behind as she tries to fully comprehend what was happening. Indeed as if in a haze she follows, only stopping to take her shoes of at the entrance area as instructed. Before Mordred knew it she was lead through the corridor to another sliding door before being ushered inside.

Just as her brain catches up with reality Mordred tries to turn back to the retreating form of Shirou, so many questions on the tip of her tongue.  Yet all are silenced as a voice she had only been able to hear in nightmares for so long welcomes calmly, “It is good to see you again Mordred.”

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

In all the scenarios Mordred had envisaged while she stewed in her home this past week this one had never for a moment entered her mind.

Indeed sitting down on the floor opposite her father as she was directed to, not a single word had been shared between the pair. A pair so similar in appearance they could be mistaken for sisters. A pair who would take great umbrage to any who dared utter such a comparison for that similarity bore a great deal of bitter history for both.

 _"How the hell did it end up like this?"_  Mordred demands with as much confusion as irritation at the absurd situation she found herself, the soft sizzling and occasional clanks from the kitchen her only reprieve from the silence. Eying her sire wearily, who for some reason was wearing a frilly blue skirt and white top, Mordred can't help but feel frustrated with how things had gone so far.  _"I came here for answers ...and maybe a fight admittedly but this...this I don't even know what to say."_

Despite everything the knight had wanted to say, to ask, to demand Mordred suddenly couldn't find the words. The bizarre site before had taken the wind right out of her sails leaving the knight with only her doubts for company.

 _"Father had never been without their armour and certainly wouldn't be found drinking tea oh so damn contently."_ Mordred reasons irritably _, "Is this even the same person?"_

As she puzzles over this thought Mordred studies her sire, the former king drinking her tea in the most regal fashion and seemingly unperturbed by the whole thing. The knight's curiosity soon fades as time drags on and anger rises in its place, Mordred fuming at the injustice of it all,  _"Of course father is totally at ease. You never let things faze you so why would now be any different. What no words for your mongrel offspring who's come to visit?"_

Mordred pauses, the moment she revealed herself to her sire flashing before her eyes. The moment where a brief look of disgust marred her sires features before she turned away from the knight forever.  _"I suppose that's not true."_ Mordred acknowledges bitterly, _"Your lauded composure broke then didn't it."_

"Your tea." Comes the voice of the man who initially greeted Mordred, his golden-brown coloured eyes shimmering with friendliness as he sets a small cup on the table in front of her. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour. If you want more tea just say."

"Wh-what tea? Dinner?" Mordred splutters as she springs up in a rage, her patience for the situation worn out despite her original intention to keep things mostly peaceful, "I didn't come for any of that you idiot."

"Mordred!" The stern commanding voice of her father cuts crisply through the air, the authority held within only slightly diminished by its owners current attire, "It is not polite to insult a host and most assuredly beneath a knight of the round. You will apologise at once."

"Like hell I'm apologising for anything father." She responds hotly, her voice laced with growing amounts of venom. "Especially if it's something you're telling me to do. You have no right damn it."

Artoria`s steely gaze meets Mordred`s challenging stance, the tension thick in the air. Neither one seemingly willing to back down until a voice of reason cuts in.

"Now now Saber I'm sure Mordred-san didn't mean anything by it." Shirou tries to calmly reason, raising his hand in supplication as two sets of emerald eyes turn their ire on him.

Blinking nervously, Shirou clears his throats and presses on despite the twin force of baleful energy now being directed at him, "She's just on edge giving everything that's happened and by the sounds of it there hasn't been much conversation happening since I left." Offering an encouraging smile to Artoria he prods gently, "Maybe you should calm down and make the first step."

 _"You're in for it now boy."_  Mordred muses hungrily, her rising blood lust invoked by her father now fully directed at the person who dared to interrupt their standoff.  _"Once father cuts you down to size I'll take my turn and you'll wish you never stepped back into this room."_

In all Mordred`s time at court her father , though never unjust, was never one to suffer impudence. A king after all could not afford such a challenge to their authority and hope to enjoy a long reign.

Yet to Mordred`s utter shock as soon as the man's final words leave his lips her father's gaze softens. Meeting Shirou `s eyes, a long sigh escapes Artoria`s lips as she agrees, "Perhaps you are right Shirou."

So completely confused by what just occurred before her, Mordred zones out and completely misses her sires follow up words. Registering that her father's lips were indeed moving as her brain struggles to catch up with reality, Mordred asks with dazed eyes, "What?"

Not seeming to care that Mordred hadn't been listening, Artoria with her facade of calmness restored repeats patiently, "I said I apologise Mordred. Despite having gone over this conversation many times I found myself lost for words when you sat down before me. "With a bob of her short blonde hair, having apparently decided something of import, Artoria requests, "Please calm down and sit. If you are still willing I will do my best to engage with you on this ...difficult topic."

Mordred nods dumbly and she sits back down, the fight bled from her by the confusing scenario. Yet despite her befuddlement Mordred still catches the appreciative smile her sire offers Shirou, one which causes the boy to blush and rub his head in apparent embarrassment.

 _"What the hell is going on between those two?"_  Mordred ruminates, working the question around her head as if she was trying to decipher an infuriating riddle,  _"Could they actually be... no father forsook such relationships. There's no way he could be with anyone like that let alone this strange man."_

Seeing her sire's smile slip away, one filled with a contentment Mordred had never seen before, the knight truly begins to question that belief.  _"What the hell happened to you father?"_

"There is one thing that needs to be cleared up before we go further Mordred." Artoria begins diplomatically, drawing the knight away from her ruminations. Yet despite the placating tone Mordred can't help but notice and indeed approve of her sires eyes that still retains that indomitable strength that brook no argument, "I still require you to apologise to Shirou . Especially as his food is of the highest quality and it would not do to have it wasted on an unappreciative guest."

Her curiosity now at an almost unbearable level, Mordred suppresses the anger she feels at the knock to her pride and nods slowly. " _There will be time to fight later and this thing with the boy is only one of the many things I want to ask father about. I've got to take this chance...though there is no way I'm grovelling to him as father expects me to."_  The divine smell of some kind of meaty stew meats Mordred nostrils, " _And if nothing else the guy seems like a decent cook. I suppose it couldn't hurt to try it."_  Studying her father wearily who appears to have meant every word, Mordred`s decision is made.

"Fine I'm sorry for the disrespect I showed you." Mordred offers vaguely to the room, not dignifying Shirou with her direct attention as a way to not complexly give in to her sire`s will, "I`d be honoured to sample your food." Offering a defiant smile to Artoria, knowing full well that under normal circumstances such an apology would not have been adequate, Mordred asks mischievously, "Is that good enough father?"

Before Artoria can make her displeasure known Shirou cuts in cheerily, "Apology accepted Mordred- San."

"Huh?" Mordred questions, dumbfounded by his easy acceptance, "You forgive me just like that?"

Seemingly confused at first by the question, Shirou responds positively a moment later, "Of course. Why wouldn't I? Now I think I've interrupted enough. I hope you find the answers you want Mordred-San."

And with one last encouraging smile to her sire and a bow to Mordred, the man promptly leaves before the knight can even respond.

"You're too soft Shirou." Artoria mutters to herself as she shakes her head in amusement, the fond smile that forms utterly alien to Mordred`s eyes, "But I suppose it will have to do."

Without any idea how to process such a person Mordred looks to Artoria like a child wanting their parent to explain a new concept. "Is that guy for real?" Mordred asks with profound befuddlement, scratching her head as she continues in vain to figure out the mysterious man.

Smile deepening Artoria explains, "Shirou has an interesting view of the world and is without guile. Though unusual he is very much real."

As if it never existed the smile disappears and her sire's kingly mask of serenity slips back into place. Apparently all business once more Artoria adds, "Now Mordred why don't you relieve yourself of that armour. It's not suitable for polite conversation."

Not really liking the idea of being without her armour but acknowledging her sire was equally unprotected Mordred relents with a huff. "Fine I suppose it's only fair." Realising what she had on underneath Mordred lets out a wicked smile as the armour fades into nothing. "I prefer this outfit anyway I picked them up in Romania. What to think father?"

Mordred was currently wearing a white tube top and some blue denim hot pants that was very much on the short side. Completing her roguish look was pair of black boots and a short red coat that was left open to better expose the knights other choices in clothing.

It was an ensemble Mordred had taken to during the grail war and now served as her casual ware when not in the sparring arena. Most importantly for the knight it was an outfit that showed a lot of skin and would most certainly offend her sires sensibilities.  _"This should be good."_

Mordred watches expectantly as her father runs a critical eye over her attire but to her disappointment Artoria doesn't a say a word. However the knight does catch the flicker of disapproval that manages to break through her father's facade, though not the kind she was expecting. Indeed it is a look that very much mirrored her masters own reaction when she first revealed the choice in attire during the war. Something that makes Mordred`s heart skip a beat in a weird kind of joy she had never experienced before.

" _Huh so that is the look a father would give his daughter when he didn't approve"._ Mordred ventures hesitantly, recognising Kairi`s and her father's reactions for what it was as she recalls the memory. " _Never thought I'd be so happy to see those disapproving eyes again._   _Then again their not really the same are they."_

No eyes like that come with a key distinction that made them utterly different from the ones levied at her when she first revealed her identity. A distinction that Mordred realises for the first time as she drinks in her father's gaze that continues to scrutinise her but without scorn. The truth being that however misguided or unwarranted those looks are, it is one offered out of concern rather than abhorrence for the person in question.

 _"Does...does father actually care?"_  Mordred dares to hope despite herself, the bizarre thought more appealing to the knight then she ever thought possible,  _"I mean father obviously doesn't approve which is a win in my book but his eyes are so different from last time. I...I really don't know what the hell I'm supposed to with that."_

At a loss and deciding she really didn't like this raw vulnerability that was welling up inside her Mordred replaces the unknown with the known. For if there was one thing Mordred knew for certain is that she had managed to make her father's composure break. Something the knight was always happy to revel in.

"What... don't you don't like the way I`m dressed father." Mordred teases gleefully as she preens , forcing her uncertain emotions behind a wall of cheer filled victory. "I saw that look in your eye. Is it unbecoming for a knight to wear something like this because I got to tell you I find it quiet comfortable."

As if to prove her point Mordred stretches her clasps hands into the air before laboriously arching backwards and forwards, a smirk etched across the knights face. Yet to Mordred chagrin all her theatrics earn her is a raised eyebrow.

Apparently barely fazed by the display, Arturia offers plainly and without any hint of strong judgement, "It is not what I would call suitable attire no, but for our purposes it will do." She pauses, a sliver of regret entering her voice, "Besides you were correct regarding one point earlier. No one has the right to tell you how to dress or make any other demand of you for that matter. That is especially true for me."

Uncomfortable silence follows her utterance, neither Mordred nor Artoria knowing what to say now. In Mordred`s case the lack of reproach and most importantly the admission that referred to so much more than her attire utterly deflates the knight.

Indeed, to her confusion that slip of emotion she detected in her father's voice makes her almost feel guilty for making her sire utter it. A truly surreal thought that leaves the knight struggling to think on how to comfortably broach the topic that her sire had opened the door for. Something that Artoria was apparently also struggling with if Mordred`s sharp eyes were any indication.

" _This has got to be some kind of nightmare."_  Mordred mentally groans as she sees the grimace escape her sires control, the knight utterly frustrated by her inability to act as she normally would. " _How else could I be in the same place as father and be left completely speechless time and again? How else do I find myself unable to demand everything that is owned to me?"_

Mordred musing begin to boil over, her anger threatening violence as her nails dig painfully into her skin. _"Have I truly become so weak so quickly... so weak over the hope that father regrets his actions and cares for me somehow? I really am pathetic..."_

Mercifully Mordred is saved from her inner turmoil by the soft sound of her father clearing their throat, her anger sapped away as Artoria offers sincerely with a weary sigh, "I'm sorry Mordred. It is quiet vexing but despite my promise I seem to have fallen at the first hurdle." Seemingly gathering herself up as Mordred stares slack jawed at her sire, Artoria offers with a contemplative nod, "If it is agreeable I will start by answering any question you might have. I'd imagine you have many?"

 _"That's the understatement of the century."_  Mordred acknowledges after regaining her wits. Realising how foolish her train of thought was, she mentally boasts as she thinks on the grail war,  _"No I'm as strong as I ever was. Hell I bet I'm even stronger now that I think about it."_

Satisfied by the mental as well as physical fortitude she displayed during the war, Mordred turns her attention to her sire,  _"Father is making the effort and though I still want a good old fashioned duel I somehow think I'd still feel unsatisfied in the end. Is it really a weakness to try and talk things out? To maybe... have that kind of relationship with father?"_

Though still hesitant to accept such a scenario, Mordred braves the unknown and replies sincerely though with a degree of uncertainty, "Ehh yeah... that sounds fine."

Artoria allows a small smile to form, something Mordred still wasn't used to seeing. "Good, ask whatever you wish and I will do my best to answer." She pauses for a moment before suggesting, "It is of course a matter for you to decide upon but perhaps start with something less problematic. It is clear that this may be a difficult road for the both of us and a less taxing beginning may be best."

Nodding in agreement and silently thankful for the suggestion, though she would never admit it, Mordred scratches her head in thought. A menagerie of different questions presents themselves to Mordred as Artoria waits patiently.

Sadly for the knight most questions definitely fell into the sphere of "Problematic" and for a time Mordred was as lost as she had ever been. However as Mordred turns her attention to her sire, who was seemingly doing their best to look encouraging by offering a patient smile, an idea strikes.

"Soooo..." Mordred begins casually; not entirely certain this was a good question but if she was being honest was dying to ask, "What's with the frilly dress?"

Artoria did something Mordred had never seen her sire do before. Artoria laughed.

* * *

 

 


End file.
